Saloons, Suicides, and Chop Suey: The Long-Lost Jennette Block

When Philippe Garnier clawed his way back from bankruptcy, he commissioned three buildings in the Plaza.

The Garnier Block survives, housing part of La Plaza de Cultura y Artes.

The Garnier Building (well, part of it, anyway), survives, housing the Chinese American Museum. (Ironically, too much of the building was removed, and now it needs to be expanded.)

The 1888 Jennette Block, which was named after Philippe's wife and stood next to the Garnier Building, was torn down at the same time as the southern wing of the Garnier Building. But something that is gone need not be forgotten.

One early tenant, probably the Jennette Block's first, was inexpensive restaurant Bouillon Duval. It isn't clear if this Bouillon Duval was in any way related to the French Bouillon Duval chain or if it simply appropriated the name. Regardless, surviving newspaper ads indicate it was open for business in 1889, offering hot soup and schooner lager beer for five cents. (Schooner lager is a type of beer from eastern Canada. One wonders if the restaurant's proprietor was Québecois.)

Ad for Bouillon Duval restaurant, Los Angeles Herald,  November 1889.

The 1890 city directory doesn't list the Hotel du Lion D'Or or Bouillon Duval; I surmise the hotel had not yet opened and that the restaurant (which only ran ads for two months) may have been short-lived.

Although the Jennette Block's existence had been documented earlier (such as in the 1889 ads for Bouillon Duval), it did not appear in the City Directory until 1891. The same edition of the Directory lists the Hotel du Lion D'Or in print, at 403 North Los Angeles Street (placing it squarely inside the Jennette Block). George Lacour was listed as the hotel's proprietor.

Lacour soon added another revenue stream; the 1892 directory indicates he was running Cook's Headquarters and Saloon at 401 North Los Angeles Street, also in the Jennette Block. Presumably he reopened the building's restaurant space. While he was simultaneously managing the Hotel du Lion D'Or and Cooks' Headquarters, he was also serving as Vice President of the French Benevolent Society - a very busy guy.

1894 Sanborn Map detail showing Jennette Block at Arcadia and Los Angeles Streets

This Sanborn map detail from 1894 shows the Jennette Block in its early years. At this point, it was hosting the Hotel du Lion D'Or. Today, Arcadia Street runs through where the missing wing of the Garnier Building once stood.

A Water and Power photograph states the Jennette Block was at Los Angeles and Aliso Streets, but this isn't quite correct; Aliso ended at Los Angeles Street. Arcadia was quite close, however, so it's an easy mistake to make.

George Lacour brought on his three stepsons Eugene, Frank, and Jacques Puissegur, with Eugene as the clerk and Frank and Jacques tending bar, The 1894 city directory lists another Eugene, last name Laurent, living in the hotel and waiting tables at the onsite Restaurant du Lion D'Or - presumably Cooks' Headquarters closed or changed names. 1895 saw yet another Eugene added to the hotel's personnel - Eugene Perrin, hotel cook. A second clerk must have been needed, since Miss Francoise Laffose was hired for that purpose. More cooks, Emil Gaurie, George Clausz, and Louis Ferre, came on board as well.

There was no shortage of wine and liquor stores in Victorian Los Angeles, and Lacour operated one out of the Jennette Block. Lacour would later open a second liquor store at 367 Aliso Street. 

By 1896, one William Ellis was running a bootblack stand at the Jennette Block. During that year's election, the building doubled as a polling place for the city's Eighth Ward (today's council districts were a long way from existing).

Chauncey Durkee was a tall, handsome, well-dressed turfman (that is, he had worked as a bookmaking cashier) who lodged at the hotel. Since he took care of his room's upkeep himself, the hotel staff seldom went inside. One day in 1897, Lacour went to Durkee’s room to collect the rent, found the door locked, and realized no one had seen Durkee in days. Lacour forced the door open and discovered Durkee’s lifeless body on the bed, clad only in underwear. Durkee had slashed his left wrist with a razor, arranging himself so that the blood would fall into an unspecified vessel on the floor next to the bed. When Durkee bled out, the vessel overflowed, forming large pools of blood on the carpet. Blood spatter around the room and blood on Durkee’s feet suggested that he got up and walked around the room as he ended his life.

Lacour called the police, who soon discovered Durkee had left a suicide note:

Monday Morning, 11 o'clock.

To My Mother and Two Sisters:

Life without my sweetheart and brother to me is not worth living, and you are all better off with me out of the way. I love every one of you and could never be able to do anything for you, as my mind is with Clara and Charles. 

Your Son and Brother,

Chauncey Durkee

Clara was Durkee's wife, who had passed away three years earlier. Charles was Chauncey's brother, who had employed him at the bookmaking firm of Durkee & Fitzgerald. Chauncey had become despondent upon Charlie's death a year earlier, and had mentioned to friends, more than once, that he was tired of life with his wife and brother gone.

The note was dated Monday morning. Lacour discovered Durkee's death on a Wednesday evening. A friend of Durkee's had come to his room on Tuesday morning, knocking on the door in vain, before finally assuming Durkee must have gone out. What a sad way to go.

Quack medicine was common during the Victorian era, and the Jennette Block was not immune. One Jean Duco Lafforge took out a rather large ad in the Los Angeles Herald in 1889 offering to be interviewed at the hotel on behalf of Prof. Joseph Fandrey, "European Specialist in Rupture Curing".

At least one of LA's many French-language newspapers, L'Union Nouvelle, had offices in the Jennette Block for a time - a newspaper ad places it there in 1890.

John Kiefer, a German immigrant who had found success as an orchardist, vineyardist, and liquor merchant, owned several buildings including the Jennette Block at the time of his death in 1901. A few months later, hotel guest P.H. Don, who was ill and had recently been released from the San Diego County Hospital, was found dead in his bed, apparently of natural causes.

The 1902 directory listed what was at each address in the city, block by block, with the hotel at 401, then Louis Schmidt's real estate office at 403 (Schmidt also lived in the hotel for some time), then over a dozen of the Garnier Building's Chinese tenants next door including Sun Wing Wo & Co. apothecary (which has been recreated inside the Chinese American Museum), then a saloon at number 437 belonging to one Giovanetti Aladino. 

Just five years after Chauncey Durkee, another long-term lodger died of suicide. Lacour and his stepsons fumigated the hotel frequently to keep it free from bedbugs, always doing so in the morning and leaving the windows open so the lodgers could safely return to their rooms at night. A bedbug-killing fluid would be poured into pans and placed on the floors of each room. The hydrocyanic gas in the formula would then dissipate and kill any bugs that might be present.

Henry Kellar, a 64-year-old cook from Lorraine, was in the habit of taking a nap in the middle of the day. Frank Puissegur stopped him on the stairs, warning him not to go into his room because of the poisonous gas. Puissegur continued on his way, but Kellar kept going down the hall, unlocked the door, and lay down.

Early that afternoon, another lodger, Ed Horst, returned to his own room and could hear Kellar struggling to breathe. Looking over a partition and seeing Kellar unconscious, Horst called for help. Lacour had to break down the door - Kellar had locked it behind him. Kellar had also closed the windows, meaning the gas could not escape the small space. The other rooms were checked for more potential victims, an act that saved the life of Harry Ruff, who had left his windows open and wasn't quite as affected as Kellar.

Both men were taken to the receiving hospital, but due to Kellar's age and the severity of his condition from a few hours of breathing in poison in a closed room, there wasn't much the doctors could do for him, and they had to focus on saving Ruff (who survived). 

Three years earlier, Kellar had unsuccessfully attempted suicide by slashing his wrists. The coroner found a letter in his coat pocket addressed to Lacour and dated the previous year, stating that his brother in Lorraine would settle any debts after his death. In light of these facts, along with the locked door, closed windows, and Kellar knowing about the poison gas, his death was ruled a suicide. 

By 1904, at least one Chinese merchant, Sue Chong, was doing business out of the Jennette Block. 1905 saw a barber, William Thibault, setting up shop in the hotel.

George Lacour left the hotel business to focus on his wine and liquor business with his son Frederick, turning the Hotel Du Lion D'Or over to stepsons Frank and Eugene and retiring a few years later to a ranch in La Crescenta. By 1907, the brothers had Anglicized the hotel's name to the Golden Lion Saloon. Don't let the "Saloon" part fool you; they were still running a residential hotel (long-term tenants included laborers, teamsters, a plasterer, and a clerk). Cheung Suey sold tobacco out of the storefront space at number 405 (it isn't clear if Sue Chong and Cheung Suey were the same person or two different people with similar names; print media hasn't always been careful with Asian names and it still sometimes isn't). 

The Golden Lion doesn't seem to have stuck for long; by 1908 it was listed as Puissegur Brothers Saloon. Louis Schmidt was still running his real estate office out of number 403, although by this time he had moved out of the hotel. The onsite bootblack stand was now run by a Samuel Hazelwood.

By 1912, the hotel had changed hands, becoming Hotel de Paris. That year, Police Chief Charles Sebastian (who went on to become Mayor) held a special banquet honoring his executive secretary E.C. Snively and Father Edward Brady of St. Vibiana Cathedral. Brady was made a special officer for his work as a prison chaplain; Snively was honored by newspaper reporters (which happened to be his previous career). 

The Mexican Revolution was going on at the time, and Americans living in Mexico were evacuated in 1912 due to unrest. Hotel de Paris' new proprietor, Frank Zucca, kindly offered free accommodation to about twenty evacuees. Chief Sebastian reported that two men believed to be spies had followed the Americans to Los Angeles and tried, unsuccessfully, to book rooms at the Hotel de Paris.

I've mentioned previously that French and Italian Angelenos often associated with each other. A 1912 Herald blurb mentions the Dante Alighieri Society (which promotes the Italian language and Italian culture) holding a banquet at the Hotel de Paris, raising $1,000 for local Italian-language schools. 

Four years later, Angela Bertonne had a harrowing experience that came to an ugly head at the Hotel de Paris, where a would-be trafficker, Primo Cerbari, had brought her. The Herald quoted Sra. Bertonne thusly: 

I knew Cerbari back in Italy. He found me with my husband and two children at San Francisco. He asked me many times to leave with him. I refused. Then he began to threaten me. Finally he said that unless I elope with him he would kill my children. I wanted to save them, and so I left with him. We came to Los Angeles. He began to abuse me and tried many times to force me to live a life of shame. I refused. Last night he came into the room. He had a revolver. He again asked me if I intended to obey his commands to be a woman of the streets. I answered no. Then he shot me and killed himself. I know my husband will understand. He will come to Los Angeles and take me back to our children.

Cerbari's choice of hotel may not have been coincidental; the Plaza area was next to the red-light district. Sra. Bertonne's doctors stated that she was expected to recover from the gunshot. 

1913 saw the hotel's address listed under both the Hotel de Paris and the Cafe de Paris. Although the Zuccas were Italian, they continued to exclusively serve French food, and the cafe was popular with tourists.

Jennette Block with "Hotel de Paris" signage, taken around 1920

In 1919, Zucca's widow sold the Hotel de Paris to prominent Chinatown businessman Quan Hay, who turned it into an authentic Chinese restaurant. (Old Chinatown was more or less next door, so the Jennette Block was a logical location for a Chinese restaurant.) It was called the New Paris Cafe, at least at first. Years later, a 1935 newspaper blurb pondered "for what reason that old Chinese down on Arcadia Street named his chop suey joint the Hotel de Paris." (The name is kind of a funny coincidence, considering that several decades earlier, two Frenchmen and a Prussian operated a French restaurant called the Oriental Cafe, just a few short blocks away.) 

Due to the fact that there were several Cafes de Paris in Los Angeles (and Hotel de Paris is a surprisingly common hotel name), it becomes very difficult to pin down the Jennette Block after the 1930s. The only thing I can state with certainty regarding its last years is that it was torn down in or around 1953 to make room for the 101.

Take a moment to contemplate this: the west wing of the Garnier Building was lopped off. If it was still there, it would extend into where Arcadia Street runs now. When you drive north on the 101 in the slower lanes and pass under the Los Angeles Street overpass, you drive right under where the Jennette Block used to stand. They say that only death and taxes are certain in life, but for Los Angeles I would add two more things: erasure and traffic.

A Very Brief History of French Bakeries in Old Los Angeles

Once upon a time, a long long time ago by Los Angeles standards, the city was just a tiny pueblo that lacked a proper bakery.

You might assume that the first bakeries in Los Angeles specialized in Mexican baked goods. You would, however, be mistaken. For LA's first 72 years of existence, the ONLY bread baked in the city was French bread.

In those very early days, Andre Mano and Pierre Domegue set up shop in the Plaza area, baking French sourdough around the corner from the Plaza Church. 

Andre Mano was born in France around 1809, is listed in the 1850 Federal census as a baker, and shared a house with 28-year-old Pedro Dornes (or Domec), a cooper who was also from France. Ten years later, the 1860 census still listed Andre as a baker, with another French housemate, laborer Martin Echepare.

Little seems to be known about Pierre Domegue, except that he was married to, and also baked bread with, a Native American woman whose name and nation aren't mentioned in the few sources I've found. 

Joseph Lelong, who set up shop in 1851, inexplicably named his French bakery after Swedish opera superstar Jenny Lind. There was a Lelong Block on Spring, south of Fifth, at least as late as 1890. If Lelong did indeed own property on that block (tax assessments suggest he had assets), he would have counted two other French bakers (Augustus Ulyard and Louis Mesmer) and a French grocer (Auguste Chauvin) as his neighbors. 

Lelong was the busiest baker in town...for a couple of years, anyway. He faced strong competition when Augustus Ulyard arrived in 1853. Ulyard, born in Philadelphia to French parents, started out with French bread, but soon added German and American breads and pastries, appealing to the growing Yankee and German communities. Ulyard added fresh crackers in 1860, filling another market gap (crackers shipped from San Bernardino or San Francisco tended to arrive stale). The former site of his bakery is now home to the Alexandria Hotel.

Ulyard eventually retired from baking, selling his bakery to Louis Mesmer. 

As Louis Mesmer merits his own entry, I'll restrict this to his activities as a baker. 

Besides the former Ulyard bakery, Louis Mesmer owned the New York Bakery at Sixth and Spring (the very first Ralphs Bros. Grocery stood next door). Mesmer, a devout Catholic, was the first baker in Los Angeles to bake matzo for the local Jewish community.

Los Angeles gained an army camp in 1861 in case local Confederate sympathizers revolted (Southern California had a lot of ex-Southern residents, and Los Angeles in particular leaned Confederate during the Civil War). An army marches on its stomach, and Camp Latham needed baked goods. Louis Mesmer got the contract, and erected a bakery at the camp along Ballona Creek (he also sold baked goods to neighboring rancheros). He was still operating the New York Bakery downtown. When Camp Latham moved to Highland Park, he supplied baked goods from the New York Bakery instead of building another bakery location.

Sometime around 1870, the Taix family arrived in Los Angeles. The Taix French Bread Bakery opened its doors in 1882 at 321 Commercial Street. Later, Adrian and Joaquin Taix owned The French Bakery at 1550 West Pico Boulevard. When the family tore down their bakery in 1912 to build the Champ d'Or Hotel (which would house the original Taix restaurant beginning in 1927), the Taix bakery moved, ending up in Northeast Los Angeles.

Dominique Foix, born in Haut-Garonne, arrived in 1882. He established a tannery and saddlery in his Macy Street home, later founding Foix French Baking Company downtown in 1886 and delivering bread door to door with a horse-drawn wagon. Foix often traded goods with customers who were short on cash, and received so many live frogs as payments that he was able to start a frog farm and sell frogs' legs to the many French restaurants in town. This led to Foix supplying bread to restaurants, which necessitated moving the bakery into a bigger facility in Highland Park. The bakery's flour came from Capitol Mills, housed in the oldest industrial building in the city - a three-story brick flour mill erected by Abel Stearns in 1831.

Foix turned over the bakery to his son in his later years, and Foix's grandsons were running the bakery at least as late as 1941. That same year, a broken water main below Elysian Park's reservoir flooded the bakery. Louis Foix evacuated all 15 employees, but the water and mud ruined 6000 pounds of flour. The bakery unfortunately seems to have closed down in the 1990s.

French Basque immigrant Jean-Baptiste Garacochea founded the National French Bakery in 1908, later changing the name to Pioneer French Baking Company. Pioneer operated in Venice from 1920 to 2006, operated by several generations of the Garacochea family. Great-grandsons John Baptiste and Charlie Garacochea co-own the Etxea Basque Bakery, which supplies bread to restaurants.

To hell with counting carbs - good French bread is an LA tradition! Pass the sourdough.

Erasing Frenchtown in Maps

I have been mapping historic French LA for 8.5 years.

It's harder than it looks. Among the many, MANY changes to the street grid, the intersection of Alameda and Aliso was erased, with Aliso rerouted into Commercial at Alameda Street in the 1950s to accommodate the 101 Freeway.

I get a lot of questions about this, and I think it's easier to explain with maps.

Aliso Street always had a bend in it - now it's more of a long diagonal. Here we see, from top to bottom, Main, Los Angeles, and Alameda Streets intersecting with Aliso. This is from 1894.

As you can see, Aliso and Commercial Streets are still parallel (and would be for about another 60 years), and Frenchtown still had plenty of houses.

This 1894 map detail shows the Maier and Zobelein brewery, formerly the El Aliso winery, in the bottom left corner. By this point, Jean-Louis Vignes' vineyard (formerly ground zero for the French community in LA) had been thoroughly developed into a mostly-residential neighborhood, and was still full of French residents like the Ducommuns, the Lazards, and Joseph Mascarel (who died in his Lazard Street home just a few years after this map was made). Maier and Zobelein was rebranded as Brew 102 in the 1940s, with the brewery tanks easily visible from the freeway and in photos.

Zoom in and you can see that Ducommun Street (misspelled here as "Ducummen") and Lazard Street were once two separate streets. Today, it's all Ducommun and it no longer reaches all the way to Alameda Street.

Republished in 1923, this map detail shows Aliso and Commercial are still parallel. Lazard Street is now Ducommun, which may be related to the fact that Ducommun Industries was, by then, headquartered along Ducommun Street (a bus parking facility now occupies the old Ducommun Yard).

North of Aliso, Marchesseault, Apablaza, Napier, and Juan Streets still existed in 1923, although multiple corrections to this map (originally published in 1906) show Old Chinatown/Little Paree gradually being torn down. Today, this is Union Station, the Metropolitan Water District, a park, and (what else...) a parking lot.

This revision, added in December 1937, shows Union Station in place of Old Chinatown/Little Paree, and shows the rerouting of Bauchet Street and the disappearance of Marchesseault Street (renamed East Sunset Boulevard). A local Chinatown historian once told me that if you could walk Marchesseault Street today, you'd more or less be walking into Union Station's front door.

Venturing northeast to where Frenchtown, the Plaza, and Old Chinatown formerly collided, we can see that Sanchez Street used to be longer. The Jennette Block, which housed the Hotel du Lion d'Or and the Hotel de Paris at different times, is now gone, along with the western wing of the Garnier Block. (The Garnier Block houses the Chinese American Museum, and ironically now needs to be expanded because too much of the building was lopped off in 1953 and the Museum needs more space. Oh, the irony.) Note that the Pico House is still called the National Hotel here.

This map is from 1953. Here we see one-third of Sanchez Street missing - lost to the 101 (Hollywood) Freeway. Today, Arcadia Street stands between Sanchez and the freeway and Market no longer exists. Look for the words "being dismantled" - much of what is still shown was gone within five years. 

One more snippet from 1953 - this is closer to today's street grid, except widening of the freeway bumped this section of Aliso further south. El Aliso (the tree itself, not the winery where it stood) was about where Vignes Street dead-ends at Commercial Street today (and, again, this section is now Commercial Street).

Want to see the current street grid laid out over the old one? Wikimedia’s got you covered. (While I firmly believe that Wikipedia is unreliable and should not be used for serious research, this map corresponds with what you’ll see in old maps of LA.)

When the original street grid has been altered to this extent, mapping French LA is a bigger challenge than everyone thinks it is. On top of that, LA added numbering fairly late. I do still plan to reveal the Great Big Map of French LA someday; I'm just not sure when (or if) I'll ever be "done" enough. 

Never Give In: Philippe Garnier

Winston Churchill said it best: "If you're going through hell, keep going."

The Garnier brothers' glory days at Rancho Los Encinos had ended in financial ruin, foreclosure, and Eugene Garnier returning to France.

Philippe Garnier had no money and a family to support. He could have thrown in the towel and gone back to France, just like Eugene.

But he didn't give up. And he had a profound effect on a treasured surviving portion of Old Los Angeles.

In 1878, Philippe Garnier was flat broke.

In 1879, Philippe began serving as a director of the Farmers and Merchants Bank and slowly rebuilt his savings.

Between 1888 and 1890, Philippe Garnier built three commercial buildings in the Plaza area.

Jennette Block, housing the Hotel de Paris

The Jennette Block stood at Los Angeles and Arcadia Streets, with the Hotel de Paris occupying the building. (It's sometimes reported that the Jennette Block was at Los Angeles and Aliso Streets. Most of the French-owned hotels fell within a one-block radius of Alameda and Aliso Streets. However, a surviving picture of the Jennette Block puts it right next to the Garnier Building. It's much more likely that the Hotel de Paris was based in different buildings at different times, since there are records of a Hotel de Paris at Alameda and Aliso and at Main and Turner opposite the Pico House.)

In any case, the Jennette Block was razed for the 101 Freeway.

Garnier Block
(Home of La Plaza de Cultura y Artes)

Many years ago, a French sea captain (no, not that one - he lived on the next block) and his wife lived in the Plaza, across Main Street from the Pico House. Their adobe house was demolished to build the two-story Garnier Block. Retail stores occupied the ground floor; the tiny Plaza House Hotel was on the second floor.

In 1946, the County of Los Angeles purchased the building. It was used as County office space, with a Sheriff's Department crime lab on the second floor. Unfortunately, the 1971 earthquake shook some of the elaborate exterior ornamentation loose, which prompted the County to remove ALL of it (blasphemy!), board up the building, and leave the Garnier Block to rot (double blasphemy!).

The Garnier Block was renovated into the La Plaza de Cultura y Artes, which opened in 2011.

Garnier Building
(Home of the Chinese American Museum)

Although LA's first Chinese market opened during Damien Marchesseault's tenure as Mayor nearly thirty years earlier, Chinese Angelenos often didn't have an easy time securing commercial buildings to rent, and they weren't legally permitted to own property in the United States.

Philippe Garnier commissioned architect Abram Edelman (co-designer of the Shrine Auditorium) to design a long, two-story sandstone and red brick building - the Garnier Building - with Chinese tenants in mind. The lease was signed before the building was even finished, and for the first three years of the lease, the rent on the entire building was only $200 a month. The building used to be much larger (the southern wing was razed in the 1950s along with the Jennette Block), so Philippe's tenants were initially paying below market rate.

Chinese-American social organizations, businesses, schools, and churches were all based in the Garnier Building. It was, in effect, Chinatown City Hall from 1890 to 1953 (when the state purchased the Plaza buildings). The original Chinatown was razed for Union Station, so the Garnier Building is the only remaining structure from Old Chinatown.

Interestingly, the building occupies the corner of Arcadia and Los Angeles Streets - where the 1871 Chinese Massacre broke out.

Today, the remaining half of the Garnier Building houses the Chinese American Museum.

Take a moment to consider this: the Plaza is known for its Spanish/Mexican history and character, so much so that angry activists vocally opposed plans to restore the Italian Hall (also in the Plaza) and reopen it as a museum. Yet, no one ever talks about the fact that the Plaza is also home to a historic property commissioned by a French immigrant, designed by a Polish-Jewish architect, and built for the city's most hated ethnic group of the era - the Chinese. And only half of that building was lost to freeway construction. That's pretty amazing.

Philippe Garnier may not be well remembered today, but two (well, one and a half) of his buildings remain in the Plaza.

They Paved Frenchtown and Put Up a Parking Lot

One of the most frustrating things about digging through Los Angeles history is finding out something with character, charm, historical significance, or cultural significance was lost long ago...to build a parking lot. Yeah, THAT's a fair trade-off.

Obviously, Los Angeles needs parking facilities. I just wish developers would tear down something ugly for once.

I've been mapping historically French sites in Southern California for six years. I've inventoried almost 500. Many more have been torn down for other reasons. These historic locations, associated with Los Angeles' lost French community, have all been partially or completely replaced by parking lots (and, in some cases, parking garages).

Consider this list a "work in progress." I've been meaning to write it for a few years now...but I keep finding parking lots (and every time I do, a little piece of me dies). I'll be adding them to the list as I continue to dig. If you know of a site I should add, please comment below.

Cue "Big Yellow Taxi"...

Plaza/Chinatown

• Mayor Joseph Mascarel's adobe house. The Talamontes-Mascarel adobe, built in 1834, was torn down in 1957. The Huntington Library has the only surviving picture of which I'm aware, and I am eternally grateful to them for letting me see it in person. Now it's Olvera Street parking.
• L'Union Nouvelle offices. Los Angeles' most popular French-language newspaper (which was still being published when the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner ran its last edition) had offices at Arcadia and Main Streets for many years. Now Plaza employees park there. 
• Viole-Lopizich Pharmacy site. The Viole family served Los Angeles as pharmacists and physicians for many years. Their pharmacy is now a Plaza parking lot.
• Signoret Block. This classy mansard-roofed brick building also housed Chevalier's pharmacy. Part of the same parking lot as the Viole-Lopizich pharmacy site. 
• Another Viole-Lopizich Pharmacy site (and residence). Stood several doors down from the previous Viole-Lopizich pharmacy. Part of the same parking lot.
• Oriental Café. Co-owned by Benjamin Flotte, Victor Dol's uncle. Dol later ran the Restaurant Française in the same building. Part of the same parking lot as the Viole-Lopizich pharmacies and Signoret Block.
• Brunswig Annex. Formerly adjoined the Vickrey-Brunswig Building, which survived and houses La Plaza de Cultura y Artes. Again, same parking lot as the Oriental Café building and Viole-Lopizich pharmacies.
• Le Progrés offices. This politically independent weekly French-language newspaper stood on New High Street in the late 19th century...and its offices disappeared for the same Olvera Street parking lot as the Talamontes-Mascarel adobe. 
• Sentous Block. Christine Sterling dressed in widow's weeds and hung a black wreath on the main door when this building was condemned. Pio Pico lived in one of the upstairs apartments after losing everything. Like Mayor Mascarel's house a few doors down, it was demolished in 1957 for Olvera Street parking.
• Jean Bernard's brickyard. A motel and private parking facility stand on the site today.
• Former site of Naud's warehouse. Yes, it burned down. But it also gave the neighborhood (Naud Junction) its name. And now it's parking spaces.
• Prudent Beaudry's house/real estate office. Southern California's first large-scale developer (and builder, two-term mayor, and investor) was working from home way back in the 1880s, owning a house/office on New High Street, behind the Brunswig Building. Now the site is part of a Plaza parking lot. (The Beaudry brothers predicted that people would flood into Southern California once the railroad came to town. They were correct...beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Now LA is overcrowded. Oh, the irony.)
• At least one plot owned by Georges Le Mesnager. 1660 N. Main Street, owned by George before he got into wine and liquor production, is now a parking lot for a DWP facility.
• Georges Le Mesnager's Hermitage Winery. 207-209 N. Los Angeles Street, formerly Georges' walled vineyard (Harris Newmark compared it to a European chateau) is now part of the Los Angeles Mall...and its underground parking garage. Doesn't seem like a fair tradeoff, does it?
• The Amestoy Building. Built in 1888 in the same block that is home to City Hall, the three-story building was dubbed the city's "first skyscraper" (even though the Nadeau Hotel was taller) and formerly housed the Los Angeles Supreme Court. The Amestoy building survived the Civic Center's redevelopment in the 1920s/1930s...only to be demolished in 1958 for a City Hall parking lot. 

Downtown/Little Tokyo

• Original site of Philippe's. The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA, including its adjoining parking lot, stands on the approximate location of Philippe's original (1908-1918) sandwich shop. (It could be worse...the site of Philippe and Arbin Mathieu's previous restaurant currently hosts the city jail.) 
• Michel Lachenais' ranch. Okay, Lachenais was a violent convicted murderer. But his former homestead now boasts a Paragon Parking location, so it still makes this list. 
• Ducommun Yard. This site has had quite a history of its own! Well within the original boundaries of Frenchtown, it housed Los Angeles' first passenger depot and locomotive roundhouse, and by the 1920s it was a DWP facility (fittingly, Charles Ducommun was one of the DWP's original stockholders). Ducommun Industries operated on the site before moving to South Los Angeles in 1941. The property is currently a large depot and parking facility for buses.
• One of Louis Mesmer's New York Bakery sites. Part of the Ducommun Yard property, on Alameda Street.
• Hotel de Strasbourg. Ducommun Yard on Alameda Street, again.
• M. Sainsevain's feed store. Also part of the Ducommun Yard property.
• Much of El Aliso/Sainsevain Brothers Vineyard. Jean-Louis Vignes' 104-acre property has been divided over and over, so multiple parking lots/garages are on this chunk of land roughly bordered by the Los Angeles River to the west and the 101 Freeway to the north. 
• Former Larronde-Etchemendy mansion. The beautiful Victorian mansion at 237 N. Hope St., home to the blended Larronde-Etchemendy family for nearly 80 years, was torn down along with the rest of Old Bunker Hill. The house stood about where the DWP parking lot is today. 
• Raymond Alexandre's Roundhouse. LA's earliest known example of fantasy architecture, LA's earliest amusement park, LA's earliest kindergarten...and within the former grounds is a large Paragon Parking lot.
• Ponet Square Hotel. Formerly the largest apartment building in Los Angeles (built 1906), this hotel was torn down in the days immediately following a deadly arson fire in 1970 (which led to a badly needed update to the 1943 fire code) and promptly turned into (what else...) a parking lot. It's been a parking lot ever since.
• Two other portions of Ponet Square itself. Ponet Square includes two additional parking lots, albeit smaller ones.
• Pershing Square. Technically still there, but mostly paved over and altered beyond recognition. This is the worst public park in Southern California, partly because building an underground parking garage and elevating the park to allow for said garage has led to too much concrete and not enough tree shade. Pershing Square can be scorching hot on 60-degree days. The previous design should have been left the hell alone (if it isn't broken, don't "fix" it!). Oh well, at least the Doughboy isn't going anywhere.
• Mesmer Building. Louis Mesmer built a two-story building at the corner of Los Angeles and Requeña Streets, later opening Requeña to Alameda Street. Requeña Street was renamed Market Street and no longer exists. Mesmer's building was replaced by a City Hall parking garage.
• The entire Sentous tract, including the Sentous Street School. Razed in 1969 to build a massive parking lot for the Los Angeles Convention Center. The Staples Center (and its parking garages) now take up much of the land. Sentous Street was renamed L.A. Live Way.
• First Methodist Church. While most French Angelenos were Catholic, Melvina Lapointe Lott - niece of Remi Nadeau - belonged to this church and donated three Tiffany mosaic panels said to be Tiffany's very finest work. The church was razed (for a parking lot, what else) in the 1980s (thankfully, the Tiffany panels now belong to the Lake Merritt United Methodist Church in Oakland). On a personal note, I have used that parking lot many times...and I became very nauseous when I realized I'd repeatedly parked on the former site of a Tiffany masterpiece.
• Germain Pellissier's house. Entire block is now occupied by a hideous multi-level parking facility across the street from the Walt Disney Concert Hall. 
• Jean Sentous' dairy farm. The farm, bordered by Grand, Washington, Main, and 21st Streets, changed hands a few times, becoming Chutes Park in 1900. There are now several parking lots and a courthouse parking structure on the land.
• One of Pascale Ballade's saloons. Ballade had a few drinking establishments to his name, and the one at 742 S. Main Street is now a parking lot!
• Remi Nadeau's city block. Nadeau's land holdings included most of the block bordered by Hill, 4th, Broadway, and 5th Streets. His freighting business was headquartered here - corrals, stables, blacksmiths, and a wagon repair shop stood on the land. Today, there are multiple commercial properties, a government office...and two parking lots. 
• Louis Mesmer's house. The approximate location of 127 S. Broadway is now the entrance to a courthouse parking garage.
• André Briswalter's home (possibly). Briswalter lived at the corner of Washington Boulevard and Main Street. One of the four corners of the intersection is now a large parking lot. 
• Dehail House Hotel. Like all the other French-owned boarding houses in the area, it's long gone. Most would have been too close to the 101 Freeway to survive the 1950s, but this one is - you guessed it - a Little Tokyo parking lot. 
• Charles Ducommun's mansion. By 1892, the Ducommuns had moved out, and the house became a boarding house for newsies and other young working boys. It later became a men's boarding house, and finally a boarding house for Japanese tenants. And now the site is a parking facility.
• Victor Dol's house. There's ONE parking lot on this block...and its location corresponds to the talented chef's address. 
• Old Calvary Catholic Cemetery. The Diocese of Los Angeles decided the cemetery would better serve its needs as Cathedral High School's parking lot and athletic fields. Numerous Catholic Angelenos, many of them French, had to be re-interred at New Calvary. (Marcelina Leonis' original headstone is installed in the field fence like it's an art piece...as if dying of smallpox at age 20 wasn't bad enough. I, personally, find it disrespectful.)
• City Cemetery. The French Benevolent Society had its own parcel at the cemetery for members. Now it's a parking lot for the Board of Education.
• Champ d'Or Hotel/Taix Restaurant. The Taix family tore down their circa-1882 bakery to build the hotel in 1912. In 1927, Marius Taix Jr. took over the ground-floor restaurant from a tenant. Taix opened its current location in Echo Park in 1962. The 1912 building was torn down in 1964...for a very large parking structure across Alameda Street from the Justice Department and the Metropolitan Detention Center.

Koreatown

• Portions of Germain Pellissier's sheep ranch. It's unclear how much land Pellissier actually owned (sources disagree wildly). However, there are parking facilities adjacent to the Wiltern Theatre, which was built by Pellissier's grandson on land Pellissier had owned (and now my newer readers know why the entire 12-story structure is called the Pellissier Building).
• The Godissart home. Cosmetics mogul Joseph Godissart and his family moved to 810 S. Harvard Boulevard, which has been replaced by an apartment block...with a parking garage.

Mid-City

• Léon Bary's home. French actor/director Léon Bary's home is now an auto body shop...and its parking lot.

South Los Angeles

• Firmin "Frank" Toulet's house. Frank Toulet, founder of Musso and Frank Grill, was living at 1813 W. 79th Street at the time of his death. Now it's a fenced parking lot behind a commercial property.

The Hollywoods

• Paul de Longpré's home and gardens. The great painter's roses are long gone, with a parking garage occupying part of the site. 
• Various swaths of Victor Ponet's farm. Ponet owned much of modern-day West Hollywood. There are too many parking facilities, public and private, to list.

Santa Monica

• L. Giroux's grocery and home. Monsieur Giroux spotted Santa Monica, fell in love with it, and built a combination home/grocery store (Santa Monica's second house, supposedly, after Eugene Aune's). The house is long gone and the land is occupied by Parking Structure 6. (And I thought I'd run out of reasons to hate the Third Street Promenade!)

Glendale

• Le Mesnager vineyard. As glad as I am that the Le Mesnager family's barn survived (and reopened to the public in 2022), Deukmejian Wilderness Park's parking lot IS uncomfortably close to the buildings. I'm just saying, it *could* have been placed closer to the park's entrance.

And one "near miss" that was saved...

In 1962, the Leonis Adobe was very nearly torn down to make way for a grocery store parking lot (are you #$%@ing kidding me?!). For the second time in its existence, the adobe had been abandoned for years and left to rot. Thankfully, the newly established Cultural Heritage Board intervened...and the Leonis Adobe became Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #1.

Honorable Mention: the original intersection of Alameda and Aliso - the core of the French Colony - was erased and paved in the 1950s. When you drive under the Alameda Street overpass on the 101, you’re driving through Frenchtown. In theory, the 101 is a freeway. In practice, it becomes a sort of parking lot when traffic is heavy enough.

The Frenchwoman Who Built the Italian Hall

Frenchtown had a longstanding friendship with Los Angeles' Little Italy. In fact, the Italian Hall was built by a Frenchwoman.

Miss Marie Madeline Ruellan, a Parisian by birth, sailed for California on the Guiding Star in the summer of 1868 at the age of 22. In 1869 or 1870 (sources disagree), she married Henry Hammel, a German immigrant who owned the United States Hotel (he also had a large vineyard). The couple's only child, Mathilde, was born in 1875.

Henry Hammel passed away in 1890, leaving his $400,000 estate to Marie and 15-year-old Mathilde.

Marie was active in charitable work and known for her kindness to orphans, but she shunned attention. When Mathilde married and had a family of her own, Marie lived with them and spent much of her time with her three grandchildren.

Marie's sizable inheritance included a parcel of land on the Plaza. Frank Arconti, who had owned the land before Henry Hammel and Isaias Hellman bought it, encouraged her to build on the site. Marie commissioned a two-story brick building (from Italian-owned Pozzo Construction), intended to serve the growing Italian community.

Like the nearby Garnier Building, the new Italian Hall served multiple community needs. Italian-owned businesses filled the ground floor. The second floor hosted musical and theatrical performances and provided a home for the Garibaldina Mutual Benefit Society (a health-and-welfare safety net for members) as well as social organizations like the Italian Workers' Club. Today, the restored Italian Hall houses the Italian American Museum of Los Angeles. (Read more here and scroll down a bit for a picture of Marie.)

Marie Madeline Ruellan Hammel died of heart failure in 1913 at age 71. She is buried at Calvary Cemetery with her mother.

Watch My LAVA Sunday Salon!

If you couldn't make it to my September 2017 LAVA Sunday Salon, it's now available on Youtube. As always, much love to Kim and Richard for letting me ramble and for posting the video...to the sold-out audience for coming to hear me ramble...to my family for patiently listening to me practice...to Nathan "Cranky Preservationist" Marsak for his wit and expertise...and to Jean Bruce Poole for everything she has done to preserve Los Angeles' history.

Felix Signoret: Barber, Councilman...and Vigilante

Felix Signoret

Regular readers may recall that, two years ago, I wrote about the violent life and death of Michel Lachenais. Today, we meet the leader of the lynch mob that finally put a stop to his misdeeds. (Beret-tip to reader Bob Edberg, who referred me to this picture.)

Felix Signoret was born June 9, 1825 in Marseilles, France. He arrived in California in 1856, becoming a naturalized citizen a year later, and married Paris-born Catherine Pazzan in 1858. They had five children - Rosa, Anne, Caroline, Louise, and Felix. Tragically, baby Felix only lived for a month. Louise fared little better, passing away at four months of age.

For some time, the only barber in Los Angeles who catered to non-Spanish clients was Peter Biggs. Although Biggs was clever and entrepreneurial, he had no talent for cutting hair. When Signoret, a massive, ham-fisted man who happened to be a very good barber, set up shop in town, Biggs initially reduced his prices and wound up changing jobs.

Signoret established a fine barbershop and invested his earnings in a saloon, billiard hall (LA was still the Wild West, after all), and in time, his own business block. Per the ads in the Jan. 5, 1876 edition of the Los Angeles Herald, tenants included multilingual physician Dr. J. Luppo and V. Chevalier's French drugstore (we'll meet Chevalier again later). Signoret Block, with hotel rooms on the upper floors and retail space at street level, opened in 1874 and stood at 15 Main Street opposite the Pico House. It boasted brick construction (which was not cheap) and - something very rare for Los Angeles - a mansard roof.

Signoret Building

1876 view of Main Street. Signoret Building on the right.

Also boasting brick construction and a mansard roof was the Signoret family home, built in 1871 at 125 Aliso Street (in the heart of Frenchtown; where else?).

Signoret was elected to the Common Council (now the City Council) in 1863 and served on the County Board of Supervisors in 1866. Oh, and he was also very active in the local Vigilance Committee. At one point, he even threatened to hang two attorneys who frequently secured acquittals for murderers.

Let me be VERY clear: I DO NOT condone vigilante justice. Due process of law exists for good reasons, and vigilantes have killed innocent people. That said, there is a reason someone like Signoret would join the Vigilance Committee in the first place.

Early Los Angeles was pretty much lawless. Forget what you've heard about Tombstone, Deadwood, and Virginia City - Los Angeles was the toughest of the tough frontier towns. John Mack Faragher, Yale professor and author of Eternity Street, tallied 468 substantiated homicides between 1830 and 1874 (at a time when LA County's population grew from under 1,000 to about 6,000). And Los Angeles - with only a sheriff and some deputies - was ill-equipped to deal with its high levels of crime.

Michel Lachenais was a particularly nasty piece of work - murdering an unarmed man at a wake, beating one of his vineyard workers to death and covering it up, shooting a man in the face (the victim survived but was blinded), and, finally, murdering one of the owners of the farm next to his after an argument.

Previously, Lachenais had gotten away with his crimes. But he was clearly a dangerous man, and his antics were extremely embarrassing to the town's law-abiding French community. When he was finally arrested for the murder of Jacob Bell, vigilantes (many of them French-speaking) took notice.

Lachenais' arraignment was postponed for three days in the hopes that the vigilantes would calm down. It didn't work.

The vigilantes met at Stearns' Hall, named Felix Signoret the committee president, reviewed Lachenais' violent life, and decided that Lachenais should hang for his crimes.

On the day of the arraignment, Signoret led the Vigilance Committee to the jail. The mob overpowered Sheriff Burns and his deputies, dragged Lachenais to a nearby corral gate, and hanged him.

Many, many people have taken the law into their own hands when the justice system failed to secure any actual justice. Signoret wasn't the only respected civilian to participate in lynchings when the law failed to convict a known murderer.

Why did Signoret (and, for that matter, the rest of the mob) face no consequences? Judge Sepulveda, who was fed up with lynchings, asked the Grand Jury to investigate and indict the mob's leaders. The Grand Jury concluded that if the court had done its job the first time Lachenais committed murder, the lynching would never have taken place.

The death of Michel Lachenais was the very last lynching committed in California. The Chinese Massacre the following year qualifies as a race riot. (Incidentally, the Vigilance Committee - which still had Signoret as one of its leaders - issued a statement making it quite clear that they were NOT responsible for the brutal attack that left eighteen Chinese dead - and that they had, in fact, organized to stop the riot.)

Signoret and a business partner, Le Prince, had a bank exchange at Arcadia and Main (per the 1875 city directory).

Signoret passed away in 1878 after a long battle with edema and was survived by daughters Rosa, Anne, and Caroline (Catherine had passed away in 1877). The Signorets are buried together in Calvary Cemetery, along with their children Felix and Louise.

As for the Signorets' elegant home on Aliso Street, it was later repurposed...as a brothel.

Rebirth of a Lost Frenchtown Landmark, Part 1

I'm still sad about the French Hospital's recent closure.

Thankfully, I have happier news to share.

Marchesseault Street - renamed, rerouted, paved over, and forgotten long ago by most Angelenos - is, in a way, returning to the map. (Beret-tip to Munson Kwok at the Chinese American Museum for the info.)

Union Station's forecourt and esplanade are slated for a facelift. Don't panic - the project will improve bike and pedestrian access (and add some shade trees). Union Station itself will remain just as beautiful as it looked in 1939.

The improved pedestrian/cyclist plaza will feature contrasting pavers to show where Marchesseault Street once ran (the former path of the zanja madre will also be indicated by pavers in another color).

The new tour bus drop-off zone will be RIGHT ALONGSIDE MARCHESSEAULT STREET.

View details here. I'm thrilled that Marchesseault Street, named for the most important mayor Los Angeles has ever forgotten, is returning to the streetscape. (This is also a win for the Chinese American community - besides the Los Angeles City Water Company, much of LA's original Chinatown was located along Marchesseault Street.)

I am in touch with LA Metro's Elizabeth Carvajal, who is managing this project, and will post an interview with her soon.

Welcome back, Mr. Mayor.

P.S. Don't forget - I'm speaking at StaRGazing 2018, Greater Los Angeles Area Mensa's annual Regional Gathering. I'm scheduled for an afternoon slot on Saturday, February 17. See you in San Pedro! (Book your hotel room NOW. The Doubletree ran out of discounted rooms for Friday a while ago.)

Thank You LAVA Attendees!

LAVA's September Sunday Salon was yesterday. I was absolutely thrilled to give my talk and participate in the walking tour (and with a sold-out audience!).

THANK YOU for coming.

Pictures from the Salon can be seen here, and when the video is available, I will update this with a link.

If you haven't yet heard my special guest appearance on You Can't Eat the Sunshine, you can find the episode here.

I had some questions regarding why certain details were left out of my talk. I gave a longer version of the same talk at a different event in May and the original draft was well over two hours long! I had to cut a LOT of content to get it to one hour, and had to trim it down again (omitting details like Damien Marchesseault's suicide note) to make it a 50-minute talk (and I was aiming for 40).

There is SO much information that if I could include everything, I'd probably still be talking.

That's the beauty of blogging: I can go into as much detail as I want with each entry instead of giving the Cliff's Notes version. (And I promise I'll pitch a book to publishers soon!)

On the subject of books, there were a few questions about one of my resources. Le Guide Francais de Los Angeles et du Sud de la Californie (aka The French in Southern California History and the Southland Today) was published just once, in 1932, in English and in French. It's not easy to find (I spent years looking for a copy), but Central Library has two English-language copies of the book (if I remember correctly, it's in the rare books collection).

I have had multiple requests for a transcript of my talk. If you would like a copy of my notes, you can email me at losfrangeles (at) gmail (dot) com.

However, I must make one request from everyone who requests a copy of my notes.

I have had someone take my blog's content, alter it, and pass it off as their own work (and still manage to make a horrifying number of factual errors...). This person has faced no consequences, and when I complained to the editor, I received no response.

If you wish to share my notes with someone else for any reason, I ask that you link to this blog and credit me.

Time, effort, and money go into this blog. I have limited spare time and spend much of it doing research. I do a lot of driving around (with the exception of the historical photographs, I take my own pictures). I don't make a lot of money, but I've spent a good amount on books (the old, rare ones aren't cheap) and gas.

All I want is to be credited for doing the actual work.

With that out of the way...

Thank you all for coming, and I'm looking forward to returning in the spring (we'll tour a different part of downtown).

The Captain and the Tar Pits

When the words "French sea captain" and "Los Angeles" are mentioned in the same sentence, the name of former Mayor Joseph Mascarel comes to mind (for those of us who know local history, anyway).

But there were others.

One other French sea captain (and there were a few) who settled in Los Angeles was Charles Baric.

Captain Baric and his wife Sophie lived in the Plaza, close to the Old Plaza Church.

In early LA, roofs were commonly made of clay and reed wattle. In spite of the mild climate, they did still have to be waterproofed, and tar did the trick. One of the biggest sources of tar, if not THE biggest, was the La Brea Tar Pits. At one point, Captain Baric owned the land where the tar pits are located, and sold tar for roofing purposes. (Who understands the importance of waterproofing better than someone responsible for a ship?)

Records on Captain Baric are scarce (even Ancestry.com came up with nothing), but we do know he arrived in Los Angeles in 1834, was often called "Don Carlos", was a trader in addition to a ship's captain, and supported the Americans in the Mexican-American War.

The Barics' adobe home was later demolished to make way for a mixed-use building called the Plaza House.

Sophie Baric's Gruesome Discovery

Sophie Baric* and her sea-captain husband, Charles Baric, lived in the Plaza, close to the Old Plaza Church. They were good friends with their neighbor Nicholas Finck, a German immigrant who ran a small general store out of his modest house.

In the days before trucks and delivery vans, LA's shop owners would have to go to the port at San Pedro to buy new stock from whichever ships had arrived. Whenever Finck had to go on a buying trip, he locked up the shop and left the key with the Barics for safekeeping.

One day in 1841, Sophie noticed that Finck's door wasn't open. Finck's door was ALWAYS open during business hours, unless he was down at the port.

But he couldn't be at the port. As the wife of a sea captain, Sophie knew when the trading vessels were in port. And she knew no trading vessels were docked at San Pedro that day. Finck certainly hadn't come by to drop off his key, either.

Three days passed. Finck's door remained shut. Finally, the tiny Frenchwoman decided to cross the plaza and see what was wrong. (Captain Baric was out of town.)

She couldn't see or hear anything through the keyhole. But she smelled something revolting.

The Los Angeles Herald, recounting the story in 1899, colorfully stated that "to her nostrils came an odor at once foul and forbidding that made her limbs to quake, her hair to creep, her gorge to rise, and her blood to curdle."

Sophie went straight to Don Manuel Requena (a member of the City Council), telling him she feared the worst. The councilman called upon Don Ygnacio Coronel. Coronel, an officer of the court, summoned three alguaciles (in modern English, police officers or bailiffs). When three rounds of knocking yielded no response, they broke down the door.

Poor Nicholas Finck. He was lying near his shop counter, still clutching his magnifying glass, in a pool of his own blood. Rigor mortis had set in, and he was already decomposing. The killers had fashioned a gun barrel into a bludgeon and beaten in Finck's head.

Finck had clearly been conducting business when he was murdered. The assailants had ransacked the shop and Finck's living quarters in the back (some items were clearly missing; many were just tossed around the tiny store). Bloody footprints were everywhere.

In the rear of the building, Don Coronel discovered Finck's mastiff - gaunt and weak (the killers had chained him in the rear courtyard with no food or water), but still alive.

The Herald commented:

The discovery of this murder was followed by wild excitement in the pueblo. The resident foreigners - that is, not Spanish-Americans - as usual, acted as if the crime were a result of race antagonism, rather than personal motive, and they called loudly for vengeance, and were not far from creating an incendiary uprising. Guards were posted to watch over the public safety, an ordinance was issued requiring citizens to be within doors by 10 o'clock at night and a volunteer guard was placed over the jail, besides which a small detachment of soldiers were sent thither from Santa Barbara.

(Sooo...in other words, LA hasn't changed all that much.)

Finck's mastiff proved instrumental in cracking the case. Don Requena and Don Coronel noticed the dog growling at one particular suspect, Santiago Linares. When they brought Linares close to the dog, the poor creature snarled and leapt onto him (and might have killed him, had he not been pulled away quickly).

Linares attempted to use his mistress, Eugenia Valencia, as his alibi. Which backfired horribly, since the officers sent to retrieve Eugenia discovered quite a few things stolen from Finck when they searched her home. Despite coming from a family of degenerate criminals, Eugenia cracked under pressure and confessed, implicating Linares, her brother Ascencio, Jose Duarte, and herself as the guilty parties.

Had Sophie not checked on her neighbor when she did, Finck's dog probably would have died, and the killers would very likely have gone on to murder someone else.

*Believe me, I have looked and looked for Sophie's maiden name. Even Ancestry.com came up with nothing.

"Jolly Joseph" and LA's First Coffee Shop

For the next few minutes, try to imagine getting a bad coffee craving in LA's early days.

There was no Intelligentsia, no Stumptown, no Coffee Commissary, no Cognoscenti, no Demitasse - hell, there wouldn't even be any Peet's or Starbucks for well over a century!

LA needed coffee. The young city's large French community especially needed coffee (God only knows how much the French have loved coffee since the early 1600s...).

In 1869, it appeared LA's prayers for caffeine had been answered. Newly-arrived French expat Joseph Joly, a cheerful fellow who quickly earned the nickname "Jolly Joseph", opened the Chartres Coffee Factory on Main Street, opposite the Plaza, in 1869.

Chartres Coffee Factory was a combination wholesale and retail coffee shop. Grocers could buy coffee, but so could the public. It was Southern California's first-ever coffee shop (which probably makes Joly LA's first barista).

However...

It didn't take long for Joly to disappear one day, leaving behind a stack of unpaid bills (and, presumably, the strong scent of French-roasted coffee beans). LA's first coffee shop owner was also one of its earliest con artists.

(Hey, I could omit the unsavory stories. But I don't believe in hiding the truth from my readers.)